carpeted with black, whilst around its front and sides hung a profusion of black and white draperies, interspersed with
rosettes of crape. The speaker's stand in the centre formed the apex of a sweeping drapery, which extended from either
side to the busts of the "dead--though living" CLAY, and thence descending to the corners of the stand, falling off in
heavy folds. The view from the front of the hall to the speaker's stand was of a sombre magnificence.

The Presbyterian Church, on South street, where the oration on WEBSTER was pronounced, was almost the counterpart
of Odd Fellows' Hall inside, except that the windows were not curtained. Draperies encircled the church entirely, whilst
heavy folds of black cloth fell from the tall steeple outside to the base of the columns beneath.

The Lyceum in the City Hall, where the eulogy on CALHOUN was delivered, was draped, as near as the difference in
rooms would permit, in a similar manner to the room in Odd Fellows' Hall.

After the delivery of the eulogies, the streets still continued thronged until a late hour, the people being apparently
unwilling to lose any opportunity of examining and engraving on their minds the many objects and scenes that rendered
the day so peculiar and so mournful. In the evening Lafayette Square presented a strange spectacle. It was lighted up by
tall, fixed torches arranged in regular order in the outline of a cross over the area. The night was black and windy, and
the waving of the dark trees, the ghastly glare of the flaring lights on the tall, gloomy, mysterious looking Cenotaph,
formed a singular, impressive and awing picture.

Thus ended a day which has formed a memorable epoch in the history of New Orleans. The citizens have a right to be
proud of the manner in which they testified their veneration for the memories, admiration for the talents and services, and
sorrow for the loss of the three greatest American Statesmen and Orators of the present century.